


Consort to the King

by BeneficialAddiction



Series: Boxers, Briefs, and Other Shorts [10]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Consort Clint, Filth, King Phil, M/M, Role Reversal, Throne Room, Throne Sex, Thrones, but also fluff?, crowns, like it's kinda sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10852596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneficialAddiction/pseuds/BeneficialAddiction
Summary: They're not what some might expect of a king and his consort.





	Consort to the King

"What... _oh fuck,_ what would they think if they could see you like this my lord?" Clint gasps, his head thrown back as his hips roll forward, unable to help himself. "On your knees, working for the pleasure of sireless street trash?" 

"I don't care what anyone thinks about us but you," King Phillip of Coul murmurs after he slides off of Clint's rigid cock with an obscene slurp. "And you know how I feel about you putting yourself down like that. Besides, I... I have a lot to make up for." 

Clint tilts his head, looks his lover in the eye, his chest filled with a warm fondness he never thought he'd feel for this man, this king who so many years ago stole him off the streets to be his consort. He'd been dragged before the throne in rags and chains, the same throne he now sprawls across in all his naked glory, chosen because of his golden, muscled youth's body and his incredible eyesight. Given the choice between the King's bed and the King's prison he'd made the obvious choice, but had gone to the royal sheets bitter and angry and fearful. 

It hadn't lasted long. 

The King was an incredibly gentle and attentive lover, and more than that a good man, who truly cared about his people and about Clint. Where he had feared being humiliated and defiled before the courts and all the royal subjects instead he was dressed in togas of the finest silks dyed the deep purple of the royal family, his ankles and his biceps draped in delicate chains of gold and hammered silver. He spends his days waltzing smug and speechless among the King's most favored court-members on bare feet, beholden only to the man himself and catered to like a beloved pet until the sun sets, and then... 

Oh, and _then._

"You have nothing to make up for," he says quietly, taking his King's face between his hands. "None of it was truly your fault. Forgiven and forgotten my love. We are not the same as we were, you and I." 

Sitting back, he lounges across the royal throne, one leg tossed casually over the arm in a lewd display, his turgid cock flushed and pressed up against the flat, hairless planes of his belly. 

"Look how far we've come together," he murmurs, gesturing between them – Phillip, King of Coul on his knees at Clint's feet, his robes pooling on the floor around him, his mouth wet and red and bruised, his crown perched jauntily atop Clint's own head. "I've come to respect this crown, and I've come to love the man who wears it." 

Phillip stares up at him from his position on the floor, the throne room abandoned but for the two of them, his eyes dark with lust and the risk of knowing that anyone could walk in on them at any time. He loves Clint, as politically and socially unacceptable as it is, and he's never been shy about vocalizing that fact, but this time he just surges up off the floor to plant a hungry, biting kiss on his lips before offering him a wicked grin. 

"Let's just see if we can make you come."


End file.
